


Dear Company

by PrimarchOmegon



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Comfort Food, Epic Friendship, Gen, Is this Brighthammer?, Mentioning of kinks, Nerkral needs his mouth washed with soap, Nostraman is such a poetic language, Original Character(s), Slaanesh is not one-dimensional okay, Swearing, This warband is way too friendly, guys being dudes, mentioning of incest, mentioning of self-flagellation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 12:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/PrimarchOmegon
Summary: It's been a while since Malail officially joined Antrophiel's warband as a Sorcerer and while it unites under the banner of the Dark Prince, he is pleasantly surprised that it doesn't seem that bad. At least until the Chaos Lord forces him to attend one of their gatherings and do what he is seemingly incapable of at this point: Relax and have a good time.Alternate title: Nerkral being a dick to Cantrus for 3119 words.
Kudos: 2





	Dear Company

“I was called here just for that?” Antrophiel merely replied with a smirk and pointed him to sit at his side, on the floor. Granted, there were enough pillows and covers in the mess hall to make it comfortable and the low tables suggested he’d have to at least kneel in order to be in reach of any cups. However, he chose to remain sceptical about such an easy-going offer and the Chaos Lord was still quite tall, even when he was out of armour and sat down like that.  
“I also brought you here for some dear company. Or are you not feeling up for some relaxation?” Malail pursed his lips, but sat down regardless, though the Chaos Lord didn’t seem too agree with that either.  
“It was an honest question, you do not have to join us if you do not wish to.”  
“My Lord-”  
“Don’t do that. Not here and not now, Malail.” he visibly jolted when Antrophiel’s arm descended onto his shoulders in a manner that was way too friendly. And all while saying his name - gods, he said his name and it had rolled off his tongue like it was but a marble. In front of everyone no less.

“You’ve already had your fill on the wine, it seems. Of course he doesn’t know what this is about, the legions never did such things.”, Cantrus interjected from Antrophiel’s right. Hearing him speak casually and without his usual, fanatic devotion towards the Chaos Lord caught Malail so off guard that he didn’t know what to say, let alone even reply at all. All he could do was stare at Cantrus and his disgustingly bright eyes that sat in an unsettling nothingness of the blackest void. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought the Word Bearer’s eyes would start leaking their abyssal emptiness any second.  
“Mine did.”, Antrophiel countered and calmly poured himself another cup of what smelled too aromatic to be actual wine.  
“But let’s not dwell on semantics. To put it simply, this is the time where my dear warband gets to relax. No titles, no ranks, no limitations. Do what you wish, the only rule is to not upset anyone. We’re all here for a good time, be respectful.”

“And can I expect the same from everyone else?”  
“That entirely depends if you keep running your mouth, Sorcerer.” Malail spared Nerkral’s provocative smile but a side glance, though that was answered with a rather inquisitive look. Even if it was only a split second of eye contact, they both managed to immediately gauge the other’s intent, mood and the oh so small words that were written between the lines. Who would have thought that a Night Lord was the one Malail would end up having the most in common with. Who would have thought that it would be a Night Lord that made Malail feel like he conversed with someone sane.

It was bizarre how Nerkral’s eyes, while filled with blackness all the same, were so entirely different from Cantrus’ as well. There was raw emotion that raged and screamed inside them, may it be a sadistic gleam or a barely contained spark of contempt.  
_And whenever they gazed into the vastness of space, they shone with the light of a thousand stars that danced inside them._  
“And you, _Fanatic_ , stop hogging all the fruit.”  
“You could have said something, _Hypocrite_.”, the Word Bearer merely said, sliding the bowl across the smooth surface of the polished table and over to Nerkral on the other side. It was strange to see everyone so open and out of armour, Malail would have never thought that Cantrus was that broad; even if he still looked slim next to Antrophiel. Nerkral on the other hand was a pale, long-haired mess and looked about as emotionally unstable as a Night Lord usually was. The sardonic drawl in his voice almost failed to contain his uneasiness and Malail had no doubt that Nerkral would use the next best opportunity to leave them for the lonely embrace of a self-imposed exile. It did not come as a surprise to find a son of the Night Haunter to be awful in social situations.

“Where are all the grapes, bootlicker? Don’t tell me you scarfed them down already!”  
“You can have the ones you can catch.” Cantrus didn’t leave him any time to bite back and instead threw a handful of grapes in Nerkral’s direction. As expected, he caught all of them with a single hand. However, the majority ultimately dropped into his lap when he struggled to get a hold of them due to his missing index- and the remaining stump of his middle finger.

“The score at the last gathering was better, are you slacking off on your training?”, Antrophiel mused and Malail couldn’t help but feel slightly odd when the Chaos Lord pulled him close so that their sides bumped into each other. So far, every interaction he had had with Antrophiel had been strict and professional; being in reach so suddenly, let alone touch him with any part of his body, carried an aftertaste of insecurity that he did not like.  
  
_What was he supposed to do?_ _  
  
_ What was appropriate to do, should he play along? Everyone else seemed to have subscribed to this strange philosophy, this strange ritual. They laid themselves open as much as they were willing to. Or, as much as they could, at least.  
And it wasn’t like Cantrus wasn’t subjected to this strange behaviour. Bizarrely, the Word Bearer seemed just as uncomfortable with such an intimate contact, however, Malail didn’t need to prod much in order to realise that it originated from an entirely different nature. Cantrus enjoyed this, yet at the same time hated himself for it. A servant should not long for such a thing, nor were they worth being touched by their god.  
_What a limited, self-loathing mindset.  
_Malail knew very well that Antrophiel was no messiah, nor god. All of them could have taken his place, potential success aside; all of them could have been where he was now. And despite being damnably hard to kill, it was not entirely impossible either. At least he was just as competent as he was persistent.

“I wouldn’t threaten dear Cantrus too much, he bashed Benkrath's face in good and proper at the last tournament.”  
“ _Because he had his mace._ I’m not going to make the same mistake.”  
“Gods almighty...” Malail sighed and resorted to finally pouring himself a cup of wine as well, even if he was rather hesitant to drink it. It wasn’t _bad_ , truth be told, it was rather otherworldly than anything else. But the burning aftertaste signalled him that this was not a beverage he could drink like any other wine. If a human ingested this, they would have probably died of alcohol poisoning after a few sips.

“I would kill for a steak.”  
“Well, tell one of our dear servants then!” The Thousand Son blinked and even though it was a stupid thing to say, it forced itself out of his mouth without any warning.  
“We’re in space.”  
“And should that keep you from enjoying a good cut of meat today?”  
“He does that every single time.”, Nerkral said with a dismissive gesture of his crippled hand.

“Brings in tons of fresh things. Meat, fruit, everything. Hell, can’t even remember a gathering where I wasn’t drunk.”  
“You may not remember anything about the last one, but I do. Unlike you, I know restraint.” That, Malail did not doubt. If Cantrus had plenty of anything, it was restraint. And he seemed to exercise it with an iron discipline, no matter how much he struggled to do so.  
“You there!“ Antrophiel interrupted his train of thought by waving a servant over.  
“More wine, my Lords?” Initially, Malail struggled to identify the human’s gender, however, the subtle body clues pointed to a female. He had come to learn quickly that almost all servants here were showing varying degrees of androgyny. That they all wore roughly the same robes and the fact that some of them sported multiple arms, hooves, horns and even tails didn’t make it any easier to differentiate either.

“Oh, we have plenty of that, but my dear Sorcerer would like to enjoy some actual meat for once.”  
“At once, my Lord.” When she bowed before leaving them, the black opals that were embedded into her forehead gleamed softly in the dim lighting and Malail couldn’t help but be reminded of Antrophiel’s own jewellery. Only that the servant's head lacked the soft waves of thick, white hair that curled so effortlessly around Antrophiel's ram horns and shoulders.  
“Never thought you could be so hospitable when you’re not nitpicking the work I put in.”, the Thousand Son finally said, which earned him a chuckle from above.  
“I can be so many things if you let me, Malail. In the end, that’s all up to you.”  
“Your offers are wasted on him.”, Cantrus merely grunted and Malail was sure he could hear the jealousy seep out of his words. It made the Word Bearer angry that his saviour didn’t make an effort to tempt him, so that he may give in eventually. It upset him that Antrophiel devoted so much attention to someone who did not want to receive it, rather than him who was desperate for it, yet ultimately had to reject any and all unspoken proposals. And Malail was not the only one to notice.

“You can polish my boots for a change if you feel neglected.”, Nerkral threw at the Word Bearer from across the table, which earned him an icy glare. It was obvious that he enjoyed pushing everyone’s buttons, especially when Cantrus was available; bathing in any and all hatred and spite he received for it.  
“I’ll be sure to drag them through the mud for you! And then you can ask the Sorcerer for his, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”  
“My boots are not in need of-”  
“I don’t think that is what he’s into.”, Antrophiel chimed in with a tone that was far too chipper for someone that had just witnessed Malail almost spitting wine back into his cup. Granted, he couldn’t quite remember how many of those he had had, which his brain categorised as dangerous circumstances, however, none of the others seemed to be particularly sober as well. Cantrus had resorted to sitting still and only moved if Antrophiel’s arm around his shoulders forced him to, and Nerkral was eating with a surprisingly aggressive undertone at this point. Cups had been emptied and filled again by seemingly invisible, many-limbed servants and right now, Malail was not entirely sure if what he felt was a pleasant light-headedness or worrying to the highest degree.

“Can we not?”  
“You should’ve thought about that before you joined a warband that unites under the banner of the Dark Prince, Sorcerer.”, the Night Lord teased, only taking his abyssal eyes off of him to throw a grape at Cantrus. And seeing how the Word Bearer was suddenly not at all above catching it with his mouth any longer made Malail think about how the consumption of highly alcoholic beverages should be illegal for all of them.

“If being straight to the point makes you blush, then you should probably not go out at night, like a good little girl. Or you can go join Cantrus in the Sanctum and whip yourself half to death every other day.” This time, he felt a visible jolt and he had no doubt that Antrophiel had felt it as well. Had that been too far? Was it one of those things everyone knew of, yet they never spoke about it?  
“I… I made sure there was no one-”  
“Obviously, you didn’t check well enough, otherwise you wouldn’t have lost the right to call me a degenerate after what I’ve seen!” The Word Bearer fell silent for a moment, then reached for his cup and emptied it in one go before getting up to leave. And not even Antrophiel’s hand lightly squeezing his shoulder seemed to be able to persuade him to stay.  
“Such a baby, what does it even matter! If I’d want to have my back slashed to ribbons while I-” Malail chose to willfully ignore everything that came out of Nerkral’s mouth from this point on until he was done. As a Thousand Son, he had always valued information above all else, but this was perhaps the one piece of knowledge he could do without.

  
“So it is true, Nostraman is a poetic language!” The Night Lord scoffed, but nodded while Malail was still trying to come up with something that Antrophiel could have possibly interpreted as poetic when it came to Nostraman literature.  
“I’ll gladly write you a limerick about how I fuck your sister, hell, I’ll do it right now! What rhymes with _eviscerated_ ?”  
“I always admired how your curses incorporate the entire family tree. Very creative.”, Malail finally said and chuckled lightly.  
  
“I do what I like and I like what I do, Sorcerer. But while we’re here, your mother is a fat pig and you and your father took turns.”  
“Sounds a bit clunky, six out of ten at most.”  
“There’s always something that doesn’t translate well, Gothic is too soft. Even the Imperium’s language is gutless, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of examples on Prospero.” Once again, Antrophiel’s hand squeezed a shoulder; this time Malail’s. Prospero was not a good topic to bring up and Malail trusted Nerkral to know that. Perhaps that was the reason he had brought it up to begin with. Or perhaps that was just his reckless demeanor.  
“Our works were philosophical and instructional.”, the Thousand Son finally said and chose to bring his cup to his lips once more before continuing.

“The range of topics was near endless with both academic and fantastical literature. You’d need several lifetimes to go through one section of the grand library alone, it was magnificent.” This time, the Night Lord’s dismissive gesture was directed towards him, though he did not mind. Not everyone shared his interests and he accepted that. What he could not accept, however, was willful ignorance.  
“So far, you’re doing a terrible job of convincing me you aren’t boring.“  
“I’ve no obligations towards someone that speaks of his disgusting habits so freely.”

“It won’t get any better than this, Sorcerer, look around! You’re oh so proud of yourself, yet you’ve joined us. It makes me wonder if the skeletons in your graveyard might be worth digging up.“ Luckily, the richly decorated servant woman saved Malail from having to answer by returning with a plate. And even though her eyes were set deeply in her sockets and had a strange glow to them, they reflected the candlelight beautifully when she sat it down in front of him before taking to her duties again. The smell alone was enough to make his mouth water instinctively and he couldn’t help but compliment the arrangement of sides. It looked like a perfect painting of a still life, rather than something one would be served so casually.

“Have you ever looked at someone like this Sorcerer looks at a steak?”, Antrophiel commented with an edge of staged jealousy in his voice and chuckled lightly. Contrary to what he would have expected, Malail had found that the Chaos Lord was not a good actor, nor was there any attempt to be. Whenever Antrophiel spoke, everyone listened automatically, without even wanting to. His intonations, accents and shifts were… intoxicating, for the lack of a better word.  
“I’ve eaten people like a steak before.”, Nerkral retorted and shrugged. However, it was but a short moment before retaliation came in the form of Cantrus rejoining them at the table to Antrophiel’s right. His tattooed face bore naught but an expression of utter indifference and the golden sigils and symbols that barely reached over his left eye to his cheek shimmered softly in the pleasant, dim lights.

  
“If anyone ever committed such a disgusting act, it would be you, Nerkral. Let me guess, there were women and children on your menu as well? Ripped apart any infants lately?”  
“Curious about trying a little auto-erotic cannibalism while you’re at it, Cantrus?”  
“It’s like you were born to be vile. Your parents should’ve strangled you at birth.”“We’re all products of our past and surroundings, now aren’t we?”, Antrophiel interjected, patting the Word Bearer’s head. Again, there was a visible jolt upon initial contact and Malail could almost see how much Cantus struggled to compose himself when fingers carded idly through his short, blond hair for a moment longer than necessary.

“And as flawed as it is, we’ll have to thank the Imperium for giving us life and opportunities. We most certainly would not be here without it!”  
“We wouldn’t be in this mess without it either. Really goes both ways.”, Cantrus remarked, but seemed reluctant to go any further with elaborating on his opinions. And Malail honestly did not blame him for once.  
“It always does. We are but specks of dust to both the Imperium and the Gods, I thought you of all people would have subscribed to such a nihilistic view.”

“Shut your mouth, I hate that you have a point.” This time, it was Malail that was on the receiving end of having something thrown at him by the Night Lord. And contrary to a mere grape, there was quite the need to catch the apple before it had a chance to hit him right in the face.  
“You’re wasting good food, show some respect.”, he merely replied, however, he did toss it back before returning to his plate. It was absurd how much he had missed the taste of actual meat; the taste of actual food that wasn’t just a mash of artificial chemicals and nutrients.  
“Well?” Antrophiel stopped tormenting Cantrus with his close proximity for a moment to refill his cup.  
“Are you enjoying yourself?” That was a good question. Not that he was incapable of doing so, though other people had never been a part of it. Their presence was usually a sign for Malail to leave the perimeter, given that no one could hold his interest for long after they had opened their mouth for the first time. It had all been so dull, so incredibly bland!

Compared to that, this was… refreshing.  
“I’d like to say no, just to spite you for once while I still can.“, the Thousand Son finally said, putting his plate aside to reach for the wine.  
“But you make it so damnably hard to do that.”


End file.
